


The Hardest Part of Breaking Up Is Getting Back Your Stuff

by prince0froses



Category: DCU
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-11
Updated: 2012-01-11
Packaged: 2017-11-04 05:49:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/390451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prince0froses/pseuds/prince0froses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce and Clark have just broken up. Bruce may have forgotten to return some things of Clark's. Clark returns to remedy the situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hardest Part of Breaking Up Is Getting Back Your Stuff

Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne, as of this morning's row, were no longer a couple. Bruce was completely fine with this. Totally, utterly, at peace. Nothing ached deep in his gut like a super-powered punch to the soul. Nope. Nothing wrong here, business as usual returned.  
  
Perhaps it was Bruce's total contentment with the entire situation that caused him to neglect a few objects in the box of Clark's things he'd gathered in a thorough sweep of Wayne Manor. He could never ask Alfred to do such a thing; the butler would clean up after his one-night stands, yes, but Clark wasn't some floozy, Clark was...  
  
Not his anymore, Bruce forced himself to remember. He had no claim on Clark Kent, he was completely and utterly free to pursue Lois, Diana, hell, even Luthor if he felt like it. Bruce stoically returned to the Batcave computer, mostly to put himself off _that_ line of horrible, horrible thought. After a few hours, Batman felt nothing beyond a sense of dutiful accomplishment; he had managed to unravel a case that had left him stumped for days, all that remained was to go suit up and  
  
Half-clad in the Batsuit, he heard a rush of air behind him. Bruce pursed his lips against the childish thought that maybe, if he did not turn around, there would be nothing there. He heard an indignant throat clear, and had no choice but to acknowledge.  
  
Of course, there Superman stood, arms crossed sternly over his chest. The polite smile on his face looked jarringly out of place under the intensity of his gaze. "I seem to have left something of mine here."  
  
"The Cave's backup of the Fortress's computer system, sorry, I just found the drive over h-"  
  
"Not that," Superman took a step closer.  
  
"Now that I think about it, Alfred might have had your Smallville High sweatshirt in the laundry..."  
  
"Not that either." Another step.  
  
"Alright, so I didn't return the back-up suit you left; I thought you might find it convenient to keep one here still."  
  
Superman shook his head. The space between them barely existed; they shared breaths, Bruce's growing unsteady.  
  
Might as well come clean. "OK, the picture of the Kents from the bedside table, your laptop, and your spare pair of glasses are all in your overnight bag. Over here." Bruce turned to pull the bag from its hiding spot in the dais of the Giant Penny, but a steel grip caught his bare shoulder.  
  
"Nice try. But no. Not those."  
  
Before Bruce could ask, Clark cut him off with a kiss. Bruce's lips opened by instinct; they knew where they belonged even if he did not.  "This," Clark whispered, a fist forming in Bruce's hair, "Is what I left behind. You. Mine."  Bruce felt Clark's hands everywhere, their warmth creeping over his chest like rays of sunlight.  
  
Well into the night, as they left the cave's unfortunate medical cot shattered beneath them, Bruce answered him back, again and again. "Yours."


End file.
